


Video Killed the Radio Star

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Developing Friendships, Gen, Illustrated, Magic, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: At this point you're probably wondering if we're going to list the entire series as the best episodes ofCarolina: The Teenage Witch. Not quite! But most of the first few episodes are too good not to put on the list. In 1x02, Video Killed the Radio Star, Carolina has to struggle with an unexpected roommate and how much she hates keeping secrets. Plus she starts using that iconic clothing spell. This episode also establishes the running gag of Carolina hating American pizza and a certain person's love of junk food and MTV.





	Video Killed the Radio Star

**Author's Note:**

> The second "episode" of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, now with amazing art by **[Creatrixanimi](http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com/)**!

Grey is perched on the edge of Carolina’s bed. She looks completely put together and not at all like she’s just done a twelve-hour rotation at the hospital. She taps a mauve fingernail against her mouth as she studies Carolina.

Carolina tries not to look towards the closet. She also tries to fake enthusiasm, but she’s pretty sure she fails on the second one as Grey chirps, “So Vanessa tells me that you’re finally ready to try a few spells!”

“I want to learn control,” Carolina acknowledges. “But she said we’d start tomorrow--”

Grey cuts her off with a laugh. “Oh, Carolina! Why wait? I know that magic has taken a lot away from you, but now it’s time for magic to give you a few things. In fact, let’s start with a clothing spell. Your first subconscious use of magic was changing your outfit after all. I think you have a penchant for them!”

“A clothing spell?”

“Yes. There are limits, of course. No brand names, thanks to a few witches over-indulging in creating Gucci a few years ago, but it’s still one of my favorites. You just picture what you want, focus on how much you want it, snap your fingers, and-- there!”

With a snap of her fingers, Grey goes from her pristine hospital scrubs to a gorgeous off-the-shoulder dress the same shade as her nail polish. Even her shoes have changed to cute sandals. She glances past Carolina towards the full-length mirror on the wall and smiles, pleased. “See?”

“Wait,” Carolina says. “You can just make clothing out of thin air? Or are you just transforming the clothes you’re wearing?”

“Oh, the old clothes are in my room. It wouldn’t be a very good spell if you had to give up one outfit for another!”

Carolina’s mind races, imagining all the clothing she could conjure and donate. She tries to keep the thought off her face. She remembers Kimball’s warning about charitable magic. Still, a hint of excitement sparks. She remembers an outfit another girl was wearing that day at school. She pictures it in her head, focuses on it, and snaps her fingers. Nothing happens. She frowns, imagines her mom’s amused smile if she saw her wearing it, and snaps her fingers again. This time her outfit changes.

She doesn’t feel the switch. One second she’s wearing the blue dress, and the next she’s in a matching denim jeans and jacket, a white shirt, and brand new running shoes. She stares at herself in the mirror, both amazed and unnerved.

Grey claps. “Perfect! I’d say don’t overuse the spell, but there’s always the double closet space spell, so I wouldn’t worry. We could do that one now--”

“No!” Carolina shouts, instinctively stepping in front of the closet.

Grey blinks.

Carolina fakes a laugh. “I mean, please don’t tempt me. When I get my witch’s license and see my mom again, I want it to be easy to leave all this stuff behind and start traveling again, you know?”

“Oh,” Grey says. She tilts her head. This time when she studies Carolina, it’s hard for Carolina not to squirm. “Two years is a long time not to feel settled in one place, Carolina. I hope you and Vanessa both consider my house a home, even if it’s a temporary one.”

Carolina doesn’t know how to respond to the unexpected earnestness in Grey’s bright, bubbly voice. Maybe Grey sees that in her face, because she laughs and adds,  “It's a wonderful spell though, isn’t it? One of my favorites, aside from the blood-removal one for my scrubs! Show Vanessa your new outfit in the morning. She’ll be so excited that you’re using your magic!”

This time Carolina’s smile feels more natural. Kimball will be relieved that she’s starting to learn magic. And maybe Carolina faking enthusiasm for her magical studies will be a distraction from her secret. Carolina nods. “Right. And, um, thanks for lesson.”

She waits until the door  closes behind Grey. Then she goes to the closet.

The physical embodiment of weird magic pokes his head cautiously out between two dresses.

“That,” he says, “was too close for comfort.”  

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

“So what are you going to do?” Carolina asks.

The clone crosses his arms and almost instantly uncrosses them. His lips go thin again, this time into a frown. “I don’t know,” he says, looking slightly pained by the admission.  “I need some time to consider my options.”

Carolina glances around her room. It’s spacious compared to most she’s slept in, but she’s not sure how she feels sharing it with him. “You could ask my dad for help,” she suggests. “Or there’s Kimball and Grey….” She trails off, remembering the worry in Kimball’s face as she warned Carolina about defying the Council. What would Kimball do if she was confronted by a walking, talking manifestation of Carolina’s father’s attempt to break the rules? She bites her lip.

He laughs sourly. His eyes slide away from hers. He paces around the room, stopping by the framed photograph of Vienna. He picks it up and scowls at it. “No offense to your guardians, but I’d rather avoid all three.”  

“Okay,” Carolina says. “So I guess you’re staying here for tonight.” She glances around her room again, going to her spellbook. She finds the spell she’s looking for, and recites, “I need somewhere to rest my head, now give me a comfortable bed.”

There’s a faint popping sound, and then he says dryly, “A good first effort.”

She turns. She’s summoned a cot. It’s wedged between her own bed and the window. It looks a lot like one of the dozen cots she’s slept in over the years, and not particularly comfortable. Her face warms. She doesn’t want magic, but she also doesn’t like failing at anything.

“You have magic,” she says. “ _You_ try.”

He frowns. “I realize that I used magic earlier, but I’m still learning about my creation spell. I might be a full witch with my own magic, or I might be using _his_ like a parasite. Either way, I want to tread carefully. And you really should be practicing your magic. You’re already behind your peers who are full witches and--”

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Carolina says, and immediately regrets it. At least the clone looks just as horrified. They both make awkward faces at each other for a moment. Desperate for a subject change, she looks him over. He’s wearing a suit, one several sizes too large, like the spell had tried to put him in her father’s clothes but hadn’t calculated the difference in body size. “Dr. Grey says I’m a natural at clothing spells. You need pajamas and a couple sets of clothing, whatever you’re doing.”

He raises both eyebrows, seeming to register that she’s wearing a new outfit. “All right.”

Carolina doesn’t know men’s fashion very well. The only thing she can think of pajamas-wise is a flannel pair of pajamas similar to the ones her father wears. She snaps her fingers.

He grimaces, plucking at one of the sleeves. “Age-appropriate wear, please.”

“You’re like two hours old. You really want age-appropriate?” Carolina snaps her fingers again before he can answer. Despite her teasing, this time she puts him in sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

“I suppose it will do,” he says, frowning down at himself.

“Uh huh,” Carolina says, and waits.

After a moment he looks up. His forehead creases. He looks a little confused, like he doesn’t know what she expects from him.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised. Her mom always has to remind her father to be polite too. She swallows against the pang of longing. “You’re welcome,” she prompts.

The clone blinks. “Oh. Ah. Yes, thank you.”

“We’ll figure out the rest of your clothes in the morning. But right now I need to do homework.”

“Magical homework?” he asks, looking interested, and then frowns when she picks up her backpack and pulls out her algebra book. “Oh. Are you certain that should be your priority?”

Carolina scowls. “There’s my social development to consider, remember?” she throws back at him, the words still bitter even though she now knows her father had to lie. “I’m not going to be accepted by anyone if I fail out of school.”

His expression goes blank. Then he blinks again, realization dawning in his face. “Oh yes. That was the excuse I-- he-- came up with, wasn’t it,” he mutters, half to himself. “A decent enough falsehood. It has a grain of truth. You do need--”

“Hey,” Carolina says, loudly enough that he winces and looks worriedly towards the bedroom door. She lowers her voice. “We’re agreed that you’re not my dad, right?”

“Yes,” he agrees, looking horrified by the idea.

“So stop acting like him.”

The clone flushes. It’s weird. Her father’s always so reserved. All of the clone’s emotions are there on his face for anyone to read. He paces away from her, sitting down on the cot and frowning out the window. “Right,” he says without looking at her. “It might take me awhile to adjust.”

“Okay,” Carolina says. She waits a second, but he doesn’t say anything else. “I’m going to do homework now.”

He just nods.

She pulls out her chemistry textbook and _Fahrenheit 451,_ and tries to focus.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Wash. Thanks for the head’s up about Simmons’ pop quiz,” a girl says sarcastically, popping up beside him in the hallway as everyone heads to lunch.  “I’m pretty sure I passed, but only because I ride the bus with Caboose and he was singing some song about the periodic table yesterday.”

Wash shrugs. “Sorry, I tried to catch you after school, but you were too busy running off to suck face.” To Carolina he says, “Carolina, meet CT. She’s a traitor. CT, meet Carolina. She’s the new girl.”

“Um, hi,” Carolina says.

“It’s not CT, it’s Connie,” the girl says. “Just because you like your dumb nickname doesn’t mean everyone does.” She finally looks at Carolina. Her smile is muted but there. “Hi. Ignore Wash. He’s just mad that he’s still single.”

Wash pushes open the cafeteria doors. “No, I’m mad that you’re dating the captain of Seaside track team. You couldn’t date a guy from our own school? You had to choose that jerk?”

“It’s some Romeo and Juliet crap, except boring,” Niner explains to Carolina, rolling her eyes. “And no one cares except Wash.”

Connie shrugs. “School rivalries are dumb. No one’s going to care five years from now if anyone went to Westbridge or Seaside.” She steps up to get a tray of food. “If I need to complain, I’ll just complain about the crap food here. Chicken fingers, please.”

“Yeah,” Niner says, grabbing a tray too. “Chicken fingers for me too.” She nods towards Carolina. “Hey, world-traveler, get used to American lunches. Today we’ve got a choice of defrosted chicken fingers or congealed cheese pizza.”

Carolina peers curiously at her options. It’s not the worst food she’s seen, but it’s definitely not the best. “I’ll try something new,” she decides. “Pizza, please.” It takes her a second to realize that all three are staring at her.  “What?”

Wash looks weird. “Something _new_? Have you never had pizza?”

“Um,” Carolina says. “I’ve had Sfincione pizza from Sicily, but it didn’t look like this. It was more like a pie? And then other countries have their own version of pizzas, like in Argentina--”

Wash and Connie exchange a look. “Have you never had American pizza?”

Carolina hesitates. She tries to remember what she knows of pizza from movies. Kids seem to like it? That doesn’t explain everyone’s horrified reactions. “No? My mom said she’d get me a deep-dish when we finally visited the Chicago headquarters but--”

“Okay, listen up,” Niner says. She looks deadly serious. “We need to fix this. You’re coming with us to the Slicery tonight. You’ve had weird wannabe pizza, now you need real stuff.”

Carolina smiles, pleased by the invitation, before she remembers the clone.  “Oh, tonight? I don’t--”

“Tonight,” Niner says. Her tone suggests that she won’t take a no for answer. She swaps trays with her as Carolina tries to figure out a way to suggest that Friday night would work better.  

The problem is, Carolina thinks, is that she’s never had secrets before. There wasn’t anything to hide, or at least she never thought there was. Now she finds herself trying to lie or talk around the truth, and it feels wrong. Did her mom struggle with this too, keeping the secret of magic from her?

She’s still trying to figure out a decent excuse when Wash turns to Connie. “The pop quiz is Tucker’s fault.”

“Oh, really?” Connie looks skeptical for five seconds, but apparently Tucker causing trouble isn’t something that she has trouble believing. She turns and glares in his direction. “You’re dead, Lavernius!”

Mr. Lopez walks past, shaking his head. He says gloomily, “Por favor no amenaces a los demás en mi presencia. Eso me obliga a tener que trabajar.”  _Please don't threaten someone in my presence. That forces me to work._

“What did I do?” Tucker complains from the other side of the cafeteria.

Wash leans towards Connie. “So about that pop quiz--”

“Nope,” Connie says.

Wash sighs.

 

* * *

 

“Um, hi,” York says, hovering beside her stool as Simmons writes ‘Periodic Table Pop Quiz’ on the blackboard and then brushes chalk dust off his cardigan.

Carolina smiles up at him. She instinctively looks at his eye. All that’s left of the cut is a thin red line above his eyebrow. Despite Kimball’s worries, she’s glad she healed him. “Hi. How’s your eye?”

He laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Looked worse than it was, I guess. I just, uh, wanted to say thanks.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Carolina says, keeping her voice even.

“Sure, but you--”

Simmons clears his throat. “York, find your seat. Okay, everyone, I wasn’t kidding about that pop quiz. I want everyone to take out a piece of paper and write down at least 10 elements. You can write more if you want to try for extra credit. And yes, Tucker, before you ask, spelling counts.”

A chorus of groans greet him at this, and he looks unsympathetic.  “We’ve been at school for three weeks, guys. You all should know the periodic table at this point.” He walks over to Carolina’s table. “Carolina, I know it’s only your second day. Do your best, but don’t worry. You can retake the quiz if you need to.”

Caboose starts to hum, and Simmons sighs. “This is a silent pop quiz, Caboose.”

“Oh,” Caboose says. “Okay.” He bends over his paper and stops humming, but he’s clearly mouthing the song to himself as he starts writing.

Carolina knows the periodic table. Her father is constantly hoping that she’ll discover a sudden love of science, and continues to be disappointed by her lack of interest. She gets by with rote memorization, because failure isn’t an option. She writes down twenty elements and then sits back and watches under her lashes as her classmates struggle and sweat over the quiz.  

When they’re all finished, Simmons has them pass up their papers. Then he says, “Okay, I know that was hard. But now we’re actually going to do science.”

“Wait, we’re doing something interesting?” someone asks.

Simmons frowns. “Science is always interesting. But you guys can’t seem to concentrate on the textbook, so I thought maybe something hands on might get your attention.” He suddenly makes a face and points a warning finger at Tucker. “No.”

Tucker looks injured. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” Simmons says. A few kids snicker. Simmons pulls out a bag. Muffled chinking sounds fill the air as he shakes it and hands it to a kid in the front row. “I want everyone to take two pennies and then pass the bag on. While you guys do that, I’m going to be putting bowls and some supplies at your tables. Do _not_ touch them until I say so.”

“Two pennies? You’re spreading the wealth,” someone deadpans.

"Very funny, North," Simmons says, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but smiling a little too. 

The experiment turns out to be pouring vinegar and salt into the bowl and then dipping one of the pennies halfway into the solution and watching the reaction. Then they all drop the dulled pennies into the bowls and watch the fizzing.

“Dude, why haven’t we been doing stuff like this for three weeks?” Tucker asks.

Simmons sighs. “Because I stupidly thought you guys wouldn’t need flashy experiments to become interested in chemistry.”

“That was pretty stupid,” Tucker agrees.

Simmons narrows his eyes. “There’s a fine line between being funny and being disrespectful. You’re walking that line, Tucker.” Tucker doesn’t look cowed, but Simmons seems satisfied by the warning and goes back to the lesson about copper and oxidation.

Niner leans over to Carolina and whispers, “We’ll meet you in the parking lot after school.”

“Great,” Carolina says. She hopes the clone is good at hiding. Now that she’s had lunch, she also wishes she’d thought to smuggle him some food. Maybe Kimball will go out and he can sneak down to the kitchen.

She’ll bring him some pizza, she decides, and then refocuses as Simmons says, “If you guys behave, I might let you guys light stuff on fire later in the semester.”

“Dude, you _really_ should’ve started with that,” Tucker says.  

 

* * *

 

Carolina holds up the pizza slice and inspects it.

“Is American pizza always so….greasy?” she asks, frowning, and blinks as everyone laughs.  

“That’s the best part,” Niner says.

“I think this might kill me,” Carolina says, only half-joking. This time she isn’t surprised when they laugh. She takes a cautious bite. It’s not great. It tastes as greasy as it looks, and the crust is dry and chewy. The cheese is the best part, and even that’s mostly ruined by the grease and a slightly artificial aftertaste. She swallows.

“Well?” Wash asks.

She shrugs. “Sfincione pizza is better,” she says, and then ducks as they all boo and toss crumpled up napkins.

“Heathen,” Niner  grumbles. She manages a few seconds more of indignation before she grins and adds, “Oh well, more for me.” She takes a huge, satisfied bite of her own slice.  

“Is that--” Connie nudges Wash. “Hey, look who’s here.”

Wash glances past Carolina and Niner. He looks amused. “I thought teachers weren’t allowed to leave the school. Hey, Mr. Simmons! Having a party?”

Carolina turns just in time to see Simmons look confused. “A party?” he says, and then looks down at the two pizza boxes in his arms, like he only just noticed them. He looks flustered now. “Oh, I. Um. No?”

“You’re going to eat all that?” Niner says, sounding impressed.

Simmons looks even more flustered as a sour-faced waitress walks up, mutters, “Your anchovies,” and drops a small bag on top of the boxes. The bag immediately starts sliding, and Simmons has to do a quick sidestep to re-balance.

Wash doesn’t look amused anymore. Instead he looks alarmed. “Mr. Simmons, you know your cat can’t eat pizza, right? The onions and garlic in the sauce can cause anemia.”

“I know that!” Simmons says a little defensively. “He likes anchovies.” He starts backing up towards the door. The anchovy bag teeters and slides sideways again.

Carolina drops her hand under the table and whispers under her breath, “Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.” It’s probably not a spell, but she tries anyway.

For a moment she doesn’t think it worked. Then the bag teeters at the edge of the top box and then slides back to the middle. Simmons puts his chin on the top of the bag, trapping it. He frowns. She can almost see the calculations running across his face as he calculates the odds of the bag sliding back to the middle without his intervention. He mutters, “How did….?” His eyes dart around the room, glancing up towards the ceiling and the motionless fans.

“Maybe Mr. Simmons has a date,” Connie says, and Simmons flushes bright red.

“Goodnight!” he says, his voice squeaking. “Don’t forget to read chapter 5!”

“Definitely a date,” Connie says after he’s gone.

Niner snorts. “Yeah, with his cat.”

“Okay, what’s going on with his cat?” Carolina asks. “I think that Tucker guy mentioned him yesterday too.”

Wash grins. “Right, you weren’t there. So the first week, his cat somehow smuggled himself into the school. Nobody knows how Mr. Simmons didn’t notice his cat in the car, because his cat is super fat. Like my mom works at an animal shelter. I’ve seen a lot of cats. This guy’s _huge_. Like dog-sized big. Not exactly super stealthy. So the cat breaks into the cafeteria kitchen and eats most of the meatloaf for lunch.”  

“Oh no,” Carolina says, trying not to laugh.

“Oh yeah,” Wash says. “And that’s how Mr. Simmons almost got fired his first week on the job. Lucky for him, Principal Larue doesn’t care about, uh, anything. We all just had pizza for lunch that Friday.”

Niner nods. “So we make fun of his cat whenever we need a break in class.”

“I thought you guys all just pretended to forget everything he taught you.”

Niner grins. “That too. He’s really easy to distract. It’s great.”

Connie shakes her head and reaches for another slice of pizza. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We actually learn stuff in second period Chemistry. I guess all the idiots got put in your class.”

“Mean,” Wash says, tossing another napkin at her. He takes a long slurp of his soda. Then he glances at Carolina and her plate. “You really didn’t like the pizza?”

“I really didn’t.”

“Maybe living all those places messed up your taste buds,” he says. “Aw, where’s Mr. Simmons when I say something scientific? I could've used the extra credit.” He steals the second untouched slice on her plate at the same time Niner grabs for the one with the single bite.

“Finders keepers,” Niner says, tearing off the piece with the bite-mark and then starting in on the rest of it.

Connie makes a face. “You guys are so gross.”

“You know you love us,” Niner says around a mouthful of pizza. Grease drips down her wrist. She grins when Connie makes another face.

“Is there anything else to eat?” Carolina asks.

 

* * *

 

When she gets back to the brownstone, neither Grey nor Kimball gives her a weird look, which Carolina takes as a good sign. The clone’s probably still hiding upstairs. Hopefully he’s not starving. Or maybe he’s already gone. She brought some garlic bread with her, either way.

Grey beams at her. “Carolina it’s so nice that you’re making friends. Would you like to invite them to dinner one night?”

“Uh,” Carolina says. She looks around the room, remembering that morning when Grey magicked milk out of the fridge and poured it into her cereal. Grey can probably fake being mortal fairly well if she works at the hospital, but Carolina still hesitates.

“Maybe let her settle in first before she throws a party,” Kimball says, looking amused. “Carolina, did you want to practice a few spells?”

Carolina thinks quickly. “Let me do my homework and then I’ll bring my spell book down here.” She grabs a fork and some leftovers from the fridge.

“Still hungry?” Grey asks, a little surprised.

Carolina mutters something about the pizza being too greasy to eat and escapes upstairs before Grey can ask any other questions.

The clone is still there. He’s sitting at her desk, having summoned a television despite his previous claims of not wanting to use his magic. His nose is almost touching the screen, and the volume is so low that Carolina can barely hear it. When the door opens, he gives a quick, alarmed look over his shoulder and then relaxes when he realizes that it’s her.

His eyes narrow. “You’re late.”

“Have you been watching TV all day? You’re gonna ruin your eyes,” she retorts. She wants to bite her tongue as soon as she says it, because it’s something her mom would say. She’s not surprised when he stares at her. Then she realizes what he’s watching.

“Are you watching _MTV_?”  

For a second he looks embarrassed before he starts blustering. “If I’m going to masquerade as a teenager, I should learn a little about mortal culture. And this MTV channel showcases the interests of mortal teenagers.”

“Uh huh,” Carolina says, unconvinced. She offers him the leftovers container. “Does that mean you’ve come up with a plan?”

He frowns. “Not yet.” His nose wrinkles as he opens up the Tupperware.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she says before he can complain.

He looks indignant. “I have never begged for anything in my life!”

Carolina starts to remind him that his life so far has lasted about twenty-four hours, and then there’s a loud knock on the door. Kimball calls her name. The clone looks panicked and dives under her bed, still clutching the Tupperware container. She’s pretty sure half of the pasta gets on his shirt.

He disappears under the comforter a second before the door opens and Kimball pokes her head inside.

“Carolina, I,” Kimball begins, and then spies the TV. She squints at it, confused. “Unless Grey surprised you with that, I’m guessing you summoned it yourself? Not a spell I would’ve suggested, but I’m glad to see you experimenting with your magic.” She pushes the door open, but unlike Grey, doesn’t invite herself in. She stands in the doorway instead. “Though I don’t want it to be a distraction from your homework or spellwork.”

Carolina remembers the clone’s previous remark about falsehoods and grains of truth. “It won’t distract me. I mostly like the background noise.”  

“And how’s school?” Kimball asks. “I know it’s only your second day, but I wanted to make sure you’re not feeling too overwhelmed.”

Carolina is torn between self-conscious surprise that Kimball cares and the uncomfortable awareness that the clone is hiding only a few feet away. She forces a smile and shrugs. “It’s okay so far. I only missed three weeks, and some of this stuff my dad already taught me.”

“Good,” Kimball says. “Just let me know if you need any help.” Her mouth twists wryly. “At least with the spellwork. School was very different four hundred years ago.”

Carolina is sure that she misheard her. Kimball looks around forty, her warm brown skin mostly unlined, with only a faint faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She repeats, “Four hundred years?”

Kimball looks amused. “We told you witches age slowly.”

“I, but--” Carolina tries to imagine living that long. She can’t comprehend it, living through that much history. She shakes her head. “I’m not going to think about that.”

Kimball nods. She looks understanding. “You’re already dealing with a lot. For now just focus on high school and learning magic. You have plenty of time.”

Carolina wants to laugh. Between high school, weird magic, surprise longevity, and a certain clone, she's dealing with more than just a lot. The aluminum foil wrapping the garlic bread crinkles as she squeezes it. “I should do my homework,” she says.

“Right,” Kimball says. “Come down whenever you’re ready and we’ll try another spell.”

After she closes the door, the clone groans and crawls out from under the bed. Carolina was right; he spilled some of the pasta on his shirt. He grimaces. “I need a change of clothes.”

“You used magic before and everything seems okay,” Carolina points out, but she uses the clothing spell on him again.

“I was desperate,” he says. “You don’t even have books.” He pokes at the surviving portion of pasta and begins to eat.

She watches him for a second. Kimball is four hundred years old and looks forty. She thinks of her father, with gray in his hair and deep lines at the corners of his mouth, and remembers her mom affectionately calling him a cradle robber. She licks her lips, not sure if she wants to know. Curiosity wins out.

“How old is my dad?”   

The question takes him by surprise. He chokes on a bite of pasta, coughing so loudly that Carolina turns up the volume of the TV so that Kimball won’t come back upstairs. When he gets himself back under control, he frowns, his expression guarded. “By your standards, ancient. By the Council’s standards, middle-aged at most.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, it isn’t. You should ask him,” he says. He rubs a hand across his mouth and makes a strange face. Unexpectedly, he laughs, a sharp bark of a sound. “My taste buds are different.”

“What?”

The clone smiles. It’s a strange look, seeing genuine excitement in familiar green eyes. “Taste buds change as you age. I can develop entirely new neuropathways and build a different palate from--” He stops. His enthusiasm changes to embarrassment. He rubs at his mouth again and mumbles, “It’s exciting.”  

“Wait,” Carolina says, blinking. “Is that why everyone here is obsessed with greasy pizza? Their taste buds are used to it?”

He shrugs. “I suppose so.”

“That explains a lot,” Carolina says with a shudder. Then she refocuses. He still looks a little embarrassed by his earlier excitement. She doesn’t know how old her dad is, but now it’s beginning to dawn on her what a weird life the clone’s had so far, with centuries of someone else’s memories cluttering his head. She offers the garlic bread. “Here, try this on your baby taste buds.”

“Teenage taste buds,” he corrects, and then takes a bite. His eyes go wide. “Wow. That’s….”

She grins at him. “The only edible thing at the Slicery. Enjoy being an American teenager. Apparently you'll love grease.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Dishonorable Mention**
> 
> 1x08 - The Song of Roland - Did the first official guest star from Sabrina: The Teenage Witch really have to be Roland of all people? Who decided this was a good idea? We have questions. Many, many questions. This is a forgettable episode on top of being a bad one. The only thing worth keeping is Carolina and Church having their first argument over magical loopholes in order for Carolina to see her mom again, a fight that has ramifications throughout the rest of the show.


End file.
